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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388498">Jailbreak</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279'>Gia279</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Practice Ficlets [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Ghouls, Grave Robbers, M/M, Mausoleums, graveyards</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:33:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388498</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia279/pseuds/Gia279</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>Prompt:</strong> “A story that takes place in one room”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Practice Ficlets [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/945135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Jailbreak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddendreams/gifts">hiddendreams</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just something to take my mind off things :D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was usually a point during supernatural shenanigans when Stiles began to wonder when this all became his problem and also why it was <em>still</em> his problem and possibly, why he kept letting himself get involved in these things. “I just wanted to go to the petting zoo,” he said mournfully.</p><p>Somewhere behind him, Derek grunted. </p><p>Stiles turned his head. He couldn’t see a thing, but he suspected he was glaring in Derek’s direction at least. “All I wanted from my weekend-”</p><p>“I heard you.”</p><p>Stiles rolled his shoulders. “I thought it was worth repeating.”</p><p>“If you’d have let me handle them, we wouldn’t be stuck down here.”</p><p>He scoffed. “We came prepared for <em>ghouls</em>, not humans. You can’t just go all werewolf on human criminals.”</p><p>“Why not? They’re grave robbing.” </p><p>“Would you just break us out of here? So we can report this and move on?” They’d followed three guys into the deepest, oldest part of the Beacon Hills Cemetery, into a mausoleum Stiles hadn’t even known was there, and then down a tunnel. Stiles <em>told</em> Derek they wouldn’t have enough room if they needed to fight their way out, but Derek had insisted, and Stiles wasn’t letting him go <em>alone</em>-</p><p>Well, and then another guy had sprung up behind them and prodded Stiles’s side with a knife, wrenching a piglet-squeal of shock from him.</p><p>Not his proudest moment, but he was more concerned about how four humans had gotten the jump on them. </p><p>Derek claimed he’d smelled a ghoul, but supernatural baddies didn’t usually bother with knives when they had claws and fangs at their disposal. “There <em>is</em> a ghoul somewhere,” he muttered. </p><p>They’d gotten closed in the tunnel with a heavy, stone-slab door, left with the panicked echoes of the thieves fleeing. One of them had shouted shakily that the police would come for them in the morning, so Stiles guessed they weren’t exactly <em>trying</em> to kill them. </p><p>He only had a little cut on his side from the knife, too, a warning nick to let him know they were armed. </p><p>Derek had wanted to knock all four of them out while they were clumsily duct taping their wrists behind their backs, but Stiles wouldn’t let him. </p><p>“You were too slow.”</p><p>“Excuse. Me.”</p><p>Stiles shrugged, then sighed with relief as his hands came unbound. He pulled them into his lap and ripped the last of the tape off with a wince. “If you’d have stopped him before the rest of them had gotten to us, we wouldn’t have gotten trapped.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t let me knock them out!”</p><p>“Because we can’t have <em>four guys</em> babbling about werewolves! Not after the Immortal Cocktails incident two years ago.”</p><p>Derek growled. “Would you let that go?”</p><p>“I will not. It took weeks to convince people it was a hoax, do you know how fast it would get around if those dipshits blabbed?”</p><p>There was a long silence. </p><p>Stiles squirmed in place. He was right, no matter what Derek thought, and they were going to be fine. “Dude,” he sighed, “can we-”</p><p>“Shh.”</p><p>He narrowed his eyes. “Just be-” He stopped when Derek covered his mouth. Warmth spread over his side as Derek leaned close, his other hand closing around Stiles’s arm. </p><p>“There’s something down here.”</p><p>The words squeezed all the air from his lungs. His head pulsed. He couldn’t hear anything but his own shaky breaths and Derek’s measured inhales, and he couldn’t see <em>anything.</em> He’d gotten accustomed to situations like this, should’ve been used to being stuck in the dark, terrified, but there was no getting over it. Something was hunting him and he couldn’t see it coming. </p><p>Derek’s fingers dug into his arm. “Focus,” he hissed. </p><p>Stiles made himself nod, grounding himself by counting each bruising press of Derek’s fingertips. </p><p>“Door is straight ahead. Whatever it is—it’s behind us. I’m going to have to break the door open, which is going to take time because of the stone and the metal bar. I can’t watch your back <em>and</em> break the door down.” </p><p><em>You choose.</em> That was what he was saying. Derek could fight or get them out but he had to do one at a time, and he’d have to do both in the pitch dark. </p><p>Stiles swallowed. “Did they take my bat?”</p><p>“It’s by the door, I heard it fall.”</p><p>“Alright. Give me the bat, you get the door.”</p><p>Derek squeezed his arm again, gently, and pulled him through the dark. </p><p>The musty air felt thick as they crept along the wall, like breathing syrup. </p><p>Derek stopped walking. Let go of Stiles’s arm. </p><p>He took a shuddering breath. The familiar, worn leather grip of his aluminum bat pressed into his palm. </p><p>A scrape, barely audible, like a shoe scuffing the filthy marble, came from behind them. </p><p>“Get the door open,” Stiles ordered. His voice echoed in the closed space. He stepped away from the wall and Derek, both hands on his bat. </p><p>A whisper of fabric right in front of him.</p><p>He swung.</p><p>
  <em>Twang!</em>
</p><p>The creature howled. Clawed hands swiped at Stiles’s arms and tried to yank the bat away. Hot, rancid breath rolled over his face. </p><p>He skipped back, twisted, and swung again. His mouth curved at the snap of bone and scream of pain.</p><p>Behind him, Derek was attacking the door, kicking it off heavy bolted hinges, but Stiles could barely hear it any longer. </p><p>His boots slid over something thick and slimy. </p><p>Claws clamped on his arms while he was off balance. Teeth scraped his throat. </p><p>He threw himself back, hit the floor with a grunt, and thrust up with the bat. </p><p>The creature clamped its jaw around the metal and made a sound like a furious tiger. </p><p>Stiles brought his leg back and kicked as hard as he could. He scrambled up, using his bat to push himself to his feet. </p><p>Threads of pale moonlight shivered into the room from the crumbling door, not nearly enough for Stiles to see by, but enough for him to glimpse shapes and shadows. </p><p>The ghoul was corpse pale, sprawled on its back with a broken left arm and splintered, bloody teeth. It lifted its face to Stiles. </p><p>He swung hard. </p><p>Blood spattered his boots. </p><p>The door finally gave. Derek spun around, breathing hard. His fists were bloody but healed, and he was standing awkwardly, like he’d hurt his leg kicking it. His gaze fell to the ghoul. He sucked in a heavy breath. “I told you I smelled a ghoul.”</p><p>“I have run out of words for how much you annoy me.” Stiles shook blood off his bat. He stepped over the ghoul and grabbed Derek by the back of the neck, reeling him in for a hard kiss. “C’mon, handsome, you owe me funnel cake.”</p><p>Derek laughed dryly. “Yeah, right. We still have to report the grave robbers.”</p><p>Stiles groaned. “We should’ve let the ghoul eat them.”</p><p>“You got that right.” He took Stiles’s hand, examining the blood spatters as they stepped over the broken door. “The petting zoo is open tomorrow, too.”</p><p>“Oh, good.” He glanced over as the tunnel widened. “You’re coming with?”</p><p>“Well, I’m invested now.” He located the marble stairs where they’d followed the thieves down. “But goats really don’t like me.”</p><p>“You or all werewolves?”</p><p>“Eh.” </p><p>Stiles smiled. His first breath of cool, clean night air was loud on purpose, rattling around in his chest to clear out the dust from below. “You think Isaac knows that’s there?”</p><p>Derek looked back at the tiny, unimpressive mausoleum, completely hiding the tunnel and strange little reinforced room full of tombs they’d been trapped in. “Looks like it predated even his dad, so probably not.”</p><p>Stiles shuddered. “Imagine if we’d been regular people those dummies locked down there. What’re the odds the station would’ve even known where to look if they did report it?”</p><p>Derek shook his head. “Not good.” A pause. “Did he actually stab you?”</p><p>“Only a little.”</p><p>He glowered.</p><p>Stiles kept walking. There were ways to deal with these things. Standing in the foggy, forgotten, overgrown part of the cemetery was not one of them. “It’s barely bleeding anymore. You have to take me out for waffles, you promised.”</p><p>“I did <em>not-</em>”</p><p>“You promised after the vampires that I’d get waffles if I had to kill anything again.”</p><p>Another pause. “Oh, right.” He sighed and caught up, twining their fingers together again. “Alright, waffles. <em>While</em> we call to report the thieves.”</p><p>Stiles nodded, swinging his bat in his free hand. “Good. After waffles, you’re taking me home and letting me use your shower, and your gray sweats.”</p><p>“You’re demanding.”</p><p>“Yes.” He kissed Derek’s cheek just to see him fight a smile. “No more ghouls, ghouls are officially Scott’s problem.”</p><p>“I’ll let him know.”</p><p>Stiles nodded as they got to the car, tossing his bat in the backseat. He looked over the cemetery before he got in, watching the drifting fog for just a moment. He’d come back with flowers for his mom in the light of day. “Waffles, handsome,” he commanded, dropping into the seat. </p><p>Derek pinched his thigh, but it was worth it.</p>
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